Chapter Eight

Dante

I sit at my desk, staring at the screens, the same ones Emily found earlier. The same ones that drove a wedge between us. I knew the second she saw them that she’d feel betrayed and like I was controlling her. I could see it in her eyes—the confusion, the anger. And fuck, I get it. I do. But she doesn’t understand the world we’re in. She doesn’t understand that those cameras were the only way I could make sure she was safe, make sure nothing happened to her while I wasn’t by her side.

I rub my temples, the weight of everything sitting heavy on my shoulders. When she stormed out, and said she needed air, I should’ve followed her. But I didn’t. I gave her space, hoping she’d cool off and we could talk things through once she’d calmed down. I shouldn’t have waited. Now that decision is eating me alive.

I decide it’s time to find her. Time to apologize and explain. I want her to understand why I do the things I do, and why I need to keep her safe. But when I walk through the house, room after room, she’s not there. My heart starts pounding, a bad feeling settles deep in my gut. I check the usual places, call out her name, but the house is fucking silent.

My chest tightens as I move faster, checking every room, every fucking corner. She’s not here. I head outside, barely keeping my panic under control, and call the men I stationed nearby. They were supposed to watch the perimeter. No one gets in or out without them knowing. But when I ask them, they tell me they haven’t seen her leave.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl into the phone. “You’re telling me she just disappeared? You didn’t see a damn thing?”

There’s silence on the other end. Then, one of my men stutters, “Boss, we didn’t—”

I cut him off. “Get to the house. Now.”

My hand clenches into a fist as I hang up. I don’t waste any time and go straight to my office, to the cameras. My fingers fly over the keyboard, pulling up the footage from the last hour. My heart hammers in my chest as I rewind the tapes, scanning every frame. And then I see it.

My blood turns to ice.

A black SUV pulls up just outside the range of the cameras, barely visible. A couple of men get out, move quickly towards the house, and then I see her. Emily. She’s walking down the driveway, probably thinking she’s getting away from the cameras, from me. But they grab her. In seconds, they’ve shoved her into the SUV, and then they’re gone.

I slam my fist onto the desk, the rage boiling inside me, threatening to explode. I let her fucking leave. I gave her space, and now she’s gone. Kidnapped. I grab my phone, barking orders to my men, telling them to trace the plates on the SUV and get me a fucking location. No one takes what’s mine and gets away with it. No one.

As I pace the room, my mind races. Who the fuck would dare touch her? Who’s got the balls to cross me like this? And then it hits me. Marco. That bastard. The whole time, it’s been him. The fucking traitor. My fists clench as the pieces start to fall into place, my mind racing with fury and disbelief.

I sit back down, staring at the CCTV footage, watching the scene unfold in front of me. My eyes narrow in on one of the men, barely visible in the grainy video. It’s the tattoo, barely peeking out from under his sleeve. A snake coiled around a dagger. Marco’s tattoo. The same placement, the same design, and suddenly, everything starts to make sense.

Marco. One of my oldest associates, someone who’s been by my side for years. He was at the auction, acting like he was helping me track down Emily’s uncle. He played the part perfectly, feeding me just enough bullshit to keep me chasing ghosts while he worked behind the scenes. The betrayal churns in my gut like acid.

I should’ve fucking known. The whispers about a traitor within my ranks, the way things didn’t add up. I’d ignored it, thinking it was just another ploy to stir up shit, but now... now I see the truth. Marco’s been feeding information to the enemy, helping them take Emily. He’s been playing both sides, working with her uncle to set this whole thing up.

I stand up, pacing the room, my rage boiling over. Marco thought he could outsmart me. He thought he could take what’s mine, use Emily as leverage, and come out unscathed. But he has no idea what’s coming for him.

“Not a fucking chance,” I growl under my breath.

My phone buzzes in my hand, and I answer it without hesitation.

“Boss, we got a hit on the plates. The SUV’s registered to a warehouse on the outskirts of town,” one of my men says.

“Get the team ready,” I bark. “We’re going in.”

I hang up, my mind laser-focused on one thing—getting Emily back. And when I do, there’s going to be hell to pay.

The warehouse is a rundown shithole, hidden away from the main roads, just like the kind of place these assholes would use. My men and I move in quickly, surrounding the building, guns drawn. I don’t give a fuck about subtlety. I’m getting Emily back, and anyone who stands in my way is going to regret it.

We breach the door, storming inside, and immediately, shots ring out. The air fills with the sound of gunfire as we push through the narrow hallways, taking out anyone who crosses our path. I don’t care about the bodies piling up. All I care about is finding Emily.

Finally, we reach the main room, and there she is. Tied to a chair, looking worn out but unharmed. My heart clenches in my chest at the sight of her, but I don’t let it distract me. A man is standing next to her—her fucking uncle. The bastard who sold her off like she was nothing.

He sees me, and a smug smile crosses his face. “Dante,” he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

I don’t give him the chance to say anything else. I raise my gun and shoot him in the knee, watching as he crumples to the ground, screaming in pain.

“You think you can take what’s mine?” I growl, my voice cold and lethal as I approach him. “You think you can cross me and walk away?”

He’s gasping for breath, his face twisted in agony, but I don’t give a fuck. He deserves worse than this. So much worse.

I move past him and untie Emily, my hands shaking slightly as I work the knots loose. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the fear and relief mixed in her gaze. She’s trembling, but she’s trying to stay strong.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, pulling her into my arms. “I’ve got you.”

She clings to me, burying her face in my chest, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The gunfire, the chaos—it’s all background noise. All that matters is that she’s safe.

But then I remember Marco. The traitor. The one who orchestrated all of this.

I hand Emily off to one of my men, telling him to take her back to the house. She needs to be somewhere safe while I deal with the rest of this mess. As she’s led away, I turn back to her uncle, who’s still writhing on the ground, blood pooling around him.

“You’re going to tell me where Marco is,” I say, my voice cold and hard. “And if you lie, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The bastard spits at me, but I don’t flinch. I raise my gun and shoot him again, this time in the shoulder. His scream echoes through the room.

“Start talking,” I demand, my patience wearing thin.

Through gritted teeth, he starts to speak, and I know I’ve got him. He gives me the location—another warehouse, deeper in the city. That’s where Marco’s hiding. That’s where I’ll find the traitor who thought he could outsmart me.

I leave her uncle on the ground, bleeding out. He’s not worth my time anymore. I’ve got bigger things to deal with now.